mighty quinn
by stuart1965
Summary: Quinn lived the drifting life of a gunfighter. He just drifted from town to town. He wore a black hat broad of brim with a solid silver band and all his clothing was black. Hanging low and tied down on his right leg were a pearl handle colt-45 with a matching pearl handle bowie knife hanging from his left thigh. At the age of twenty-one he's a tough customer.


Quinn lived the drifting life of a gunfighter. He just drifted from town to town. He wore a black hat broad of brim with a solid silver band and all his clothing was black. Hanging low and tied down on his right leg were a pearl handle colt-45 with a matching pearl handle bowie knife hanging from his left thigh. At the age of twenty-one he's a tough customer.

It was late in the day as he rode in to town following the lights and music of a piano. The townspeople out on the street of broken-jaw were silent and watchful. Quinn came across a trio of young boys playing with a snake and asked" howdy boys where can I get some food? "One of the boys directed him to the golden-rock saloon. He tossed a couple of coins to the boys and rode on.

He rolled a cigarette before dismounting outside the saloon. His match rasped on leather and a yellow flicker sprang up with which he lit his cigarette. Then he slowly dismounted and tied his reins to the hitching post. Throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder he walked to the batwing doors and looked in?

The wall behind the bar had a long fancy mirror and shelves for bottles and glasses. Scattered around the room were half dozen people sitting at the table and chairs. Pretty saloon girls were entertaining the customers by singing and dancing while they were eating or drinking.

He walked into the saloon unaware of the glances from the locals. He got a bottle of whisky from the bar then selected a table in the far corner of the room. The sheriff walked in and glanced at his pocket-watch. Turning to the bar he said to the bartender" the stage is due soon Jim. Give the passangers the five minute warning on that bell of your's? "

Jim picked up the bell and rang it while shoutting" the stage is coming! Drink up? "

When the stagecoach driver neared the town he blew a small brass bugle to alert the station staff of his arrival. The driver's whip cracked like a pistol shot and six horses sprang furiously forward. It moved at Breakneck pace around a sharp turn as it entered the town. Then suddenly stopped in a Cloud of dust near the saloon.

A young middle aged man named Morris Jackson stepped down from the stage whereing a plain check suit rather wrinkled and a bowler hat that had seen better days. He wore neither gun nor knife.

Looking Across the wide street he saw the saloon with its high weather-beaten sign and several Saddled horses tied to its hitching rail. Buckboards and wagons showed farther down the street.

Quinn caught the sound of spurs ringing on the wooden sidewalk before they stopped at the entrance. He watched the man adjust his eyesight to the dimness of the saloon before strolling to the bar. The piano player stopped playing and the dancing girls stared. Card players stopped their game and stared at the man dressed in black.

He stood five-seven with ice blue eyes and a scar from eye to lip. He wore his holster low below his right hip in a typical gunslinger stile. Everyone knew he were a gunslinger and went by the name of Johnny Saunders. He had a reputation as a person with a quick gun and had twenty-seven notches on his gun to prove it.

Morris rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He stood staring at the saloon. He had the look of a man who expected to see a friend waiting? He twirled the ends of his moustache and chewed on his bottom lip. Lifting a small bottle of whisky to his lips he relished the burn as the liquid slid down his throat. After emptying the bottle-He walked over to the saloon and ordered another bottle of whisky. He walked past Johnny Saunders who were smoking a cigar at a table in the saloon. Morris selected a table near Johnny's.

Flicking the stub of his cigar to the floor Johnny walked over to Morris. With Weary red-rimmed eyes Morris blinked as he gazed unsteadily at Johnny. He reached for his whisky bottle but Johnny's hand closed over the top of his and held it to the bottle. "Mister that's my bottle you're about to drink? "

He looked at Johnny and were about to say something but he saw Johnny's hand resting on his gun and thought better of it. Johnny punched him in the face knocking Morris to the ground and with a sinaster laugh took a long swallow from the bottle.

Quinn lit his cigarette and slowly walked over to Johnny. Flicking the cigarette at Johnny's feet he said" you take another drink from my friends bottle again! I'll kill you where you stand? "

Once again the piano stopped playing and the women stopped dancing. Men quickly moved away from the bar out of gun-shot.

Down went Johnny's hand for the gun that he wore.

Quinn answered Johnny's challenge in less than a heart-beat. He knew Johnny was dead long before he went down.


End file.
